


Satyr Skull

by xax



Category: Original Work
Genre: Come Shot, Comeplay, Fusing, M/M, Magical Realism, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome - M/M/M, Transformation, satyrs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xax/pseuds/xax
Summary: Tanner is your average struggling college student, just barely passing classes and saddled with an obnoxious roommate, but when one of his friends gets involved in something supernatural -- that seems to have ties to Tanner's own past -- things seem bound to change.





	1. Chapter 1

So, there's a certain point in a boy's life when his parents stop interpreting his imaginary friends as revealing his rich inner narrative and burgeoning creative talent and start holding hushed conversations between them about what if their child is _hallucinating_. Not that he had any personal experience with that kind of thing. Of course. Just, past a certain age there was a definite awareness that in addition to not seeing the five-headed snakes in the garden, his parents didn't want to _hear_ about them either, and that aggressive disinterest extended to hearing about what Cose and he had gotten up to that day too. Kids are perceptive like that.

Not that anything like that had happened to him.

And anyway, it wasn't all fantastical animals and imaginary friends anyway. Cose was nice; a young boy his age with dark gold skin a shock of brown-silver hair, like he was greying at ten, and always looking like he had just gotten done tearing through the woods past the backyard — leaves and twigs in his hair, shirtless, grass stains on his elbows and the knees of his pants. Cose was nice; his first real friend. Cose lead him on adventures into the forest, always ending at some hidden-away place, like an ancient shrine: a tiny spring welling up between two boulders, forming a natural pool; a ring of old trees, their trunks covered in a carpet of moss; a cliff side of flaking stone, with carved graffiti that went back years and years. Once to something that was maybe an ancient grave, a cairn with a goat skull on the top, cracked and yellow with age. They always felt like secrets.

But that wasn't the only thing he saw that was unusual; he spent more than a few nights curled up under his bed muffling his sobs in his stuffed animals as bloated, inhuman shapes lurched up and down the hallway, hearing their clotted, bubbling noises inside other sounds even in the middle of the day. And of course his mom just told him that the monster in his closet wasn't real.

And anyway, he had a much better handle on things these days. College, a job. Friends that other people could see! He'd told all of them his name was Tanner, and like hell any of them were getting a look at his school ID. He just did not have time to freak out, which meant his hallucinations could go fuck off.

When moving in: his dorm was in the back of the building, and his window looked out onto a stark cube of old growth forest, bordered by an overgrown sidewalk, all thick roots coming right up to the pavement, shadows pitch black once night fell. In the morning he'd mentioned the shadows from the trees messing with his sense of time to his roommate (Greg, non-descript and tedious but not fundamentally annoying to be around) and gotten a weird look in response, and out the window there was just a grassy quad, not a single tree in sight. The sense that the universe was just continually pranking him was annoying, but something he'd long since gotten used to; what was alarming was the way Greg kept shooting him looks after that, brow furrowing whenever he said anything even slightly odd.

There was one morning when he woke up and went out to class only to find the sidewalk covered in a river of churning insects, immense iridescent-shelled beetles, the _crunch_ of their chitin loud as students walked back and forth, sharp-sour smell of bug guts in the air. Mike (had a single on the floor below, a stoner type, struck up a conversation that Tanner was pretty sure was trying to sound him out if he was a dealer right after orientation) came up and asked what's up and Tanner just shrugged, some excuse about enjoying the morning. "Class is in like ten minutes," Mike'd said, and then shrugged, heading off over the bug-infested sidewalk, crunching all the way.

One of the bugs had crawled up onto his knee, perching there a solid weight, thick barbed mandibles slowly waving in the air. It was immense, the size of Tanner's whole hand, beautiful. Its chitin shone in the morning sun, green-gold, with bands of violet-blue-black where it curved at the edges. He sat there for another minute, watching the churning insects before getting up, trying to be unobtrusive about setting the bug aside, and walked on the grass all the way to class.

Cose was definitely the nicest of his hallucinations. Tanner kept thinking he saw him in crowds, dressed like a college student — Cose had grown up with him, from a gangly kid to a lean teenager, showing up in faded blue jeans with torn knees, his skin beneath cut up and scabbed over, bumpy and prickly with stiff hair under his fingers that one night he'd leaned over, touched Cose on the knee, hip, weight shifting to send Cose slumping to the ground, Tanner over him. It was very quiet when they kissed, just the soft wet touch of skin on skin, Cose's head tipped up as Tanner pressed his lips down the column of his throat, hands skimming over his bare chest. He kept seeing guys with his build — a little taller than most, dark, lean, shirtless or only wearing worn undershirts, but whenever he looked again it was just... someone else, face all different.

* * *

"Dude, you wanna smoke up?" was what Mike opened with, and Tanner blinked at him slowly for a second. He was so tired his eyes hurt, a pressure behind them. That was... not something he'd done before, for a few reasons, but burnt out after a night of staring at homework and sometimes having thoughts flit through his head without connecting with anything: sounded good.

Which was what he told Mike, which was how he ended up in Mike's dorm at two in the morning, shushing and giggling, Mike flipping his deadbolt down with a clack, like that would do anything but alarm everyone if the RA tried to get in. There were deadbolts on every door in the dorm and it just seemed like such a bad idea. Mike was sure it would "add security", which was part of why Tanner didn't listen to most of what Mike said.

Tanner studiously focused as Mike took a hit from his bong, holding it awkwardly when Mike held it out and trying to mimic the motion, heavy smoke suddenly in his mouth, burning down his lungs. He coughed, of course, and Mike smacked him on the back, but he had time to take a lot more tries.

Much later: the room was foggy, and the yellowish overhead light was too bright. He squinted, and the figure leaning over him resolved from a brilliant silhouette. It was Cose, which, otherwise might've been something to worry about, but as it was Tanner just gave him a goofy smile and pulled him into his lap.

Cose was shirtless as usual, and he'd traded in his heavy leggings for a pair of skinny jeans that showed off his truly phenomenal thighs. He looked like a young god, his shaggy hair backlit into a brilliant halo silver, and his face all teeth, a wide smile. "Hey man," he said, leaning in until their chests were touching, his lips against the side of Tanner's jaw. "Been a while. You're a hard man to track down, you know."

"It's not even a twenty-minute drive," Tanner said. "How hard were you looking?"

"It's a little different on my end," Cose said, smirk pulling against the hinge of Tanner's jaw, and as close to admitting that this wasn't... that this maybe wasn't really happening, as far as "happening" meant something.

Cose ground forward, his cock rolling against Tanner's thigh, breath exhaling in a low, soft moan over the shell of Tanner's ear. Tanner whimpered. He flicked a glance over at Mike, who'd fallen back onto his bed at some point, one arm thrown over his eyes. He was still mumbling, or maybe snoring. Tanner wasn't exactly sure how sexual he was willing to get with someone else in the room, even if he was hallucinating the whole thing.

"Missed you," Cose all but moaned, hands wrapped around Tanner's forearms, rolling his lean body against Tanner's, the heavy hard weight of his cock jolting up and down his thigh, hair rustling in his ears. "You, Tangerine Moonlight Hedges, would not believe how boring things were without you."

Tanner groaned. "It's 'Tanner' now. God. Please. But," he said, pressing a soft kiss to Cose's neck, "You too." Cose was by far the best part of the hallucinations.

He tugged Cose to the side, pressing their foreheads together, sharing breath for a long moment, before he closed the distance and kissed him, tilting his head without breaking eye contact: meeting Cose's brilliant amber eyes when their lips finally met, only closing when he tangled his hand into Cose's hair, pulling them both to the side. Sprawled over the couch, pressed together from knee to shoulder, arms wrapped around each other.

Things went further than that — much further; waking up in the morning bleary and parched, the sight of Cose on his knees, hands cupping his cock, lips spread around the tip as he suckled gently, yeah, that happened, but the night ended in a bleary smear, and even though he woke up with his jeans hanging off his ass, cock tacky, there was no trace that Cose had ever been there. Of course.

At least he woke up before Mike; he'd get no end of grief for... jerking off, probably? in his dorm.

Tanner got himself some water and pissed before tackling the job of waking up Mike, who flopped around groaning for what had to be five minutes before even getting so far as sitting up. All-in-all he thought he'd pulled everything off pretty well, except once they were both up and eating the Lucky Charms Mike had stashed in his closet, Mike had to go and say:

"So, hey, who was that dude in here last night? You were getting pretty, uh,"

and Tanner just blanked. "Um," was the best he could come up with, and that was after an incredibly long and increasingly awkward pause where he sat stock-still, his spoon dripping cereal onto the floor, Mike going progressively more wide-eyed.

"Dude. Did you just hook up with some stranger? In my room? While I was there?!"

Tanner's brain just wasn't up for this. He needed to fish for, oh, something like what the guy looked like, because the list of possibilities he could come up with went something like

  1. some complete stranger came in and sucked him off and he hallucinated Cose's face on him the whole time
  2. weed made his hallucinations real,



and both of those were horrifying and far-fetched, which meant that he was just completely blanking on whatever the natural explanation was. "It's a little more complex than that," he said, because he at least knew he had to say _something_. "Did you get a good look at him?" he asked, intonation all _this'll be the opening of an anecdote and I need to know where to start_ rather than _I really need you to drop some information here_.

"You mean his whole," and Mike kind of outlined his head, "silver afro thing? I thought he was like eighty before I got a look at his face."

"Dude, it was like that when he was like eight years old," Tanner blurted, a bizarre mix of relief and confusion in his chest, and then, absently drawing lines through the ring of water his glass left on the table, burnt out and red-eyed, in the early-morning light of the dorm — "So, the thing is there's a certain point in a boy's life when his parents stop interpreting his imaginary friends as revealing his rich inner narrative and burgeoning creative talent and start holding hushed conversations between them about what if their child is _hallucinating_." Only he said it with a lot more _like_ s and _so_ s and _um_ s.

And so he told Mike everything in a rambling mess; the forest, Cose, the snakes and bugs writhing over the sidewalk he saw bi-weekly, the human-shaped things crawling through the hallways on the bad nights, the hollow voices echoing behind him.

"Holy shit, dude," was what Mike said after that was all done. "That's some heavy shit."

"I guess." Like, it was his life; he didn't exactly have a comparison.

"So, that was...?" Mike gestured at the couch.

"Are you kidding me? I have no fucking clue." And, the thought occuring to him, he got up and checked: "And the deadbolt's still down, so...?"

Mike was staring at him when he turned back. "Well..." he said. "Try not to dream up any of those monsters next time we get high, I guess." And that was that.

* * *

Mike was basically chill about everything, which was... a really nice change. And he was kind of cute, a little chubby around the waist, the muscles of his stomach shifting slow when his shirt rode up, which was all the time, because the two of them made kind of a habit of smoking up in the middle of the night. He was kind of — he thought about kissing Mike, a little, except that just felt like cheating on Cose. Mike would get a kick out of that if he told him, probably; even if Mike was straight he wouldn't get mad about it. Nothing seemed to penetrate his implacable laid-back aura.

And he might've told Mike about it, ha ha, cheating on a hallucination, except he really did feel like it would be cheating. Which was kind of annoying.

* * *

So after midterms (which Tanner just barely scraped by on, leaving him a wreck) there was a bit of a lull, the stress kind of baking off him and leaving him boneless in bed for half the day, only really interrupted when Mike would drop by, engage in some mutual glaring with Greg if he was around, and then drag him down to smoke up. A few days into that, it was kind of a testament to his improving post-test mental state that he realized Mike had actually _missed a day_ , and that this lead to Tanner making his way down at something like four in the morning and knocking on Mike's door.

Mike let him in, but the thing was — more like, someone let him in: he didn't even recognize it as Mike at first. It was someone wearing Cose's clothes, the worn and grass-stained heavy leggings, the square loincloth hanging to his knees, the rope belts loose on his muscled waist. He had a goat skull covering his face, all old yellow bone; the horns loose and clattering in their sockets. The sharp planes of its muzzle jutted forward like a beak, and from its empty eyes Mike's eyes gleamed an unnatural gold-green. There were tufts of grey-brown hair erupting out from underneath, frizzy and thick like a mantle.

"Mike — what? Cose?" he said, suddenly dizzy. "I think I'm hallucinating."

"You're not," Mike said, and his grin was all Cose, lopsided and wide as he leaned in, pulling Tanner forward and then pushing him down onto his bed, Tanner sitting at the edge. "Trust me."

"That's easy for the hallucination to say."

"I've been talking to Cose," Mike said, settling in Tanner's lap like Cose had that one night, although with Mike's blocky muscles he had to weigh a good fifty pounds more. And then: "And I've been talking to Mike too," in the same slurred intonation, mouth yawning in a grin, eyes definitely glowing. "Turns out we've got a lot in common."

"What?" Tanner just stared, hands wrapped around Mike's thighs, trying to tell if the fabric under his fingers felt particularly hallucinatory.

"He's just the right kind of host for me," Cose said, and then at Tanner's minute frown: "Don't get offended. I mean, in temperament. We click." he trailed Mike's hand over Tanner's side, curling around his waist. "I don't really wanna _possess_ you, you know?"

"Possess? What?" He probably should have, but he couldn't find it in him to push Mike off him, whether — whether this was Mike pulling some absolutely fucked-up prank on him, or Cose actually possessing his friend to get a body, or — whatever was happening. Mike's hands curled around him, the hard spar of his goat-skull mask pressing in a line across his head, hairline to jaw, and all he wanted was for him — them? — to keep touching him.

"I guess I should explain some things, huh?" Cose said, Mike's smoker's rasp catching, harsher.

" _Please_."

"So I kinda gave Mike some visions. Dreams. Told him where my skull was and he took off without even having to convince him." Case said, tapping the skull with a hollow _tok_. "He was really eager to see what I could do. We both get _ideas_ , you know. Do a lot more than just show up for particular sensitives." He tapped Tanner's head then, just above his temple.

"If you're gonna tell me all the hallucinations are just me tapping into the astral plane or some bullshit—" Tanner started, harsh, but Mike cut him off. Properly Mike this time:

"Nah man, I'm pretty sure you're just like, schizophrenic or something." He waved a hand idly in the air. "But some of them, yeah, I dunno, something like that. Like Cose."

"Yeah, I think I'm getting that," Tanner said softly, looking up into their eyes.

"You know why I'm 'Cose', right?"

And— Tanner remembered that. Early on in their friendship, if not the first time they'd talked. He'd asked the other boy what his name was, and then gotten tongue-tied trying to repeat it. "Cose is okay," he'd said.

" _Seleukos_ ," Cose said. "Is my name. I'm a satyr. For a while a forest spirit, but that got really old. Sometimes you meet someone you just... really wanna be with." He paused, grin wide and feral. "And sometimes there are bodies just crying out for a little more _oomph_. Like your friend Mike here." He leaned in, Mike's stubbled cheeks scraping his. "And honestly, I just really, really wanted to touch you. Properly."

Mike's fingers dragged up his sides, tugging his shirt up and over his head, his calloused fingertips scraping over the skin of his stomach, almost painfully sensitive. Tanner groaned into Mike's neck, arched up, grinding his cock against Mike's and almost instantly going boneless, the pressure pluming up through him. "Mike...?" he said, asking — permission, maybe. To do some things with his body while he was being ridden by a spirit.

"Are you kidding me? You know when I asked you out after orientation?"

"Yeah?"

"Dude, I was asking you _out_."

"Oh." And then blushing, " _Oh_."

"Yeah, oh. And anyway, Cose is — I mean, we talked. We're both getting what we want out of this. 'Cause we both want the same things."

"'This'?"

Cose — or Mike, or even if there was a meaningful distinction to make at this point — pulled his hands up, spreading them over Mike's hairy stomach, muscle hard under the padding. His thumbnails caught on the heavy rope laces. "Why don't you find out?" Even the heavy fabric of the pants couldn't hide the fat swell of Mike's cock, and Tanner reached down first, cupping his cock and grinding. Mike threw his head back in a moan, the line of his throat sharply visible. There was a kind of glow around him, Cose's brown-grey coloring gone bronze-silver in the light, like a smoggy shade wrapped around him, or partly fused together; Mike's solid body interpenetrating with the fragments of Cose's shade. They both — all three of them, maybe — reached for the drawstrings of Cose's pants, Tanner hooking his fingers under the laces and dragging them out, Mike kicking them down with a shimmy, naked underneath. His cock flopped out heavy and mostly-hard, flesh satiny-soft and thrumming under his fingers. He was uncut, cockhead red and slick, so sensitive Mike hissed and knocked his hands back when Tanner reached out with dry fingers.

"Sorry," he mumbled against Mike's shoulder, slobbering on his fingers before reaching back down, except — Mike groaned, mouth hanging open, and drawn over his back like a second skin was the smog-spirit form of Cose, flaring out across his hips like thick tufts of fur. Mike moved, pushing Cose's pants down past the swell of his heavy ass, and groaned again as Cose's half-formed ghost body rocked forward, like he was thrusting into him, his glow sinking right into Mike's flesh.

Mike's cock throbbed in Tanner's hand. Cose thrust again and Mike's cock spasmed, Mike making a drawn-out bleating moan. Each of Cose's thrusts went straight to their shared cock, Mike's already fat cock throbbing thicker and longer, bloating in Tanner's loose grip, his cockhead slicking down Tanner's palm as he thrust into it. Hair prickled under his palm, dark brown fuzz growing up the length of Mike's cock, covering his length in goathair. His foreskin thickened, excess skin bunching and folding over itself halfway down his shaft, and the rest of his cock got even redder, raw skin jutting out from his new sheath.

Pre coated Tanner's hand, more oozing from Mike's cock each time the tip butted against his palm, a sloppy mess dripping down his wrist. The change was spreading out from his cock, his pubes spreading across his thighs and up his belly in a rippling wave, thick clumps of goathair covering his darkening flesh. Mike ached his back, pushing his ass out to meet Cose's illusary thrusts, and there was a sick _pop_ from his spine, the bones of his hips warping as a nubby goat tail peeled away from his ass, prickling with silver fur. Mike lifted it, humping his still-growing cock up Tanner's belly, and then vainly back, Cose's spirit glow snapping up like it was fucking him deeper — they were latched together, Cose's spirit clinging tight to Mike's body, rolling back and forth like he was making short, slow thrusts.

Dark hair spreading down Mike's ass cheeks, around his spasming asshole, thickening down his hairy legs. His stomach clenched, blocky muscles forming, softened by his fat but still immense, iron hard; only minimally hidden by his new fur. It looked like instead of finding a happy medium between Mike's thick body and Cose's lean one, they were just getting added together; every pound of Cose adding muscle and hair on their combined body.

Mike's cock throbbed between them, leaking wildly and inhumanly large, both of Tanner's fists wrapped around it, giving him a loose, sloppy tunnel for him to fuck through, rutting from tip to sheath, his cockhead fat and brilliant red peeking out when his sheath was bunched around Tanner's fingers. Mike wailed, cock suddenly spasming, the wet _shlock_ of his thrusts stuttering as he ground forward, spraying a hot line of come up Tanner's chest, tracking across his cheek, and then again and again, pulses not letting up in the least.

His balls jerked, sinking down from where they were bunched up tight at the root of Mike's sheath — not because he was done coming, but because they were just growing too heavy; the flesh of his sac too weak to furrow up against their growing weight. Mike wailed, fucking his increasingly-animal cock across Tanner's chest, spraying him with his neverending load. Each shot was larger than the last, the cloudy white of his first few shots replaced with something heavier and oilier, a grimy yellow, with semisolid chunks that stuck across Tanner's skin in messy globs. His shaft bloated, swelling fatter and fatter until it distended into a bottom-heavy oval, the tube down the underside three fingers thick, a huge flange that twitched and pumped with each shot of rank satyr come. His cockhead, jarring against the underside of Tanner's jaw, twisted and stretched, becoming conical with an immense fat ridge, and his cockslit distended, its rim bulging out like an obscene mouth, gaping and flexing spasmodically, forming a loose, gushing tendril past the tip of his cock, lashing back and forth with every blast of come, sharp S-shaped curves spraying in all directions. Grimy yellow come splattered all over, fat dollops dotting the couch, clinging to the walls and wrecking the carpet.

Mike's cock finally spent itself, his distended cocktip drooling out the final thick sludge across Tanner's chest. He slumped to the side, sliding off Tanner to sprawl on the couch facedown, Cose's skull cockeyed, pants bunched at his knees, like he'd passed out after getting drunk — something Tanner already'd gotten to experience, the night after midterms. Tanner shifted, his unattended cock digging against the front of his pants, aching more now than it had been with Mike/Cose rubbing against it.

Like he was reading his mind: "Gimmie a minute; that was way better than I was expecting." Mike's voice was muffled, mumbling into the couch cushion. His hips were raised, ass on display — goat tail twitching, his titanic balls visible as a lumpy curve between his thighs — and it took Tanner a second to realize that was because his cock was so huge it kept him from lying down flat.

Mine groaned, rutting against the couch — his cock spat a gushing blast of fresh pre with a soggy squirt, splattering all up his chest — and kicked Cose's pants all the way off while he was at it, his calves resting on Tanner's lap. He groaned, stretching his arms off the edge of the couch, toes curling up, and at the apex of his motion his feet creaked, flesh and bone warping against Tanner's fingers. Mike's groan tapered off into a moan, his breath coming faster as the changes spread down his legs, his hair thickening in waves, rippling down the backs of his thighs and terminating at his feet. Silver-grey light was piling up across his legs, soaking into his flesh and thickening his muscles, his thighs and calves swelling to monstrous size under his shaggier-and-shaggier fur. His feet popped, cartilage and bone crunching, partly fusing together, forming a thick tree-toed foot with two dotted pads on what had been the arch of his sole and now was just above his hooves. His toenails were growing out into thick hooves, giving him a doubly-cloven hoof.

His hands had gone through something similar, fingernails dark and striated, with coarse brown fur sweeping up the backs of his forearms, a sharp shock of grey in a streak up to his elbow.

The scent of musk was overpowering, gushing from Mike's cock, each slobbery burst wracking his body, more-and-more bestial grunts, hot slime soaking the couch and working its way down his balls, soaking into Tanner's thigh where it was pressed against Mike's.

Mike rolled over, cock swinging in a rubbery arc, draping unsheathed and half-hard up his newly-developed chest, and flopped off the couch and onto the floor. He kept one hand on Cose's skull, gripping the muzzle like the brim of a hat, twisting it around until his eyes shone golden-green out through the sockets. "Only a little more to go." His voice was rough, cracked deeper, and with a little bit of Cose's strange lilting accent.

Under the skull, his face already looked different — nose thicker and upturned, the skin around his nostrils dark, like the wet pad of a dog's nose — or a goat, Tanner assumed. All in shadow, it was hard to see the more subtle differences. Mike groaned, pulling the skull down, twisting it back and forth, scraping his hair against its roof with a sharp sound. Its loose horns clattered back and forth, shifting, and then with a _crack_ the left one tore off, hanging the skull lopsided. Their merged hair was a sandy brown with silvery tips, tufting out the hole, except as Tanner watched something burst from under Mike's skin, a sharp curving claw —

Except, of course, it was horns.

His horn grew right into the hole Cose's old dead horn had left, and then a moment later his second horn shattered the right side. His horns were nubby at first, brown and only minutely curved, except as they kept growing (Mike/Cose's chest heaving, hands clenching Tanner's, letting out little whimpers of pain) they spiraled, coiling in a broad spiral out and back, twisting into one-and-a-half full revolutions before they finally locked in place, filling the cavities of Cose's old skull perfectly. They were immense, their edges complex and chambered, like a spiral seashell, ridged growth lines dotted with spikes and spines at regular intervals.

The skull was locked over his head, wearing it like a helmet over his upper face. He couldn't even see Mike's eyes: just a brilliant gold-green glow suffusing the sockets. His hair erupted out from the back of his head in a shaggy mane, brown-blond-grey, and from that mass the tips of his ears stuck out further, tufted and shaggy; a goat's ears. His lower face was distorted and brutish, nose pushed out in a shallow muzzle, jaw brutishly thick, and sharp with stubble, tufting out under his chin in a sharp goatee.

Cose — or Mike, or whatever — got to his feet, staggering for a second on his hooves before finding his weight. His hands clenched and opened, stumpy claws digging into the flesh of his palm.

The figure in front of him didn't look much at all like Mike any more, or even like the illusory body Cose had worn. Instead he was a few hundred pounds of some kind of demonic satyr, immense, skull-headed, skin shining with sweat; fur clumped together across his waist, a thick line reaching higher up his stomach. His skin was piebald, dappled back and forth between Mike's pale skin and Cose's dark olive, dots and beads like someone had let a paintbrush drip all over. Hairy and chiseled with muscle, hooves the size of both Tanner's hands put together, reeking of feral sweat and sex.

He rocked back and forth, stable on his hooves, and grinned, reaching up with one hand grope up his stomach and chest, cupping his fat pecs for a second. "I really forgot how nice having a body is," he said, one hand lingering on his chest, twisting a nipple, the other cupping his mammoth sheath, working it back and forth over the base of his cock, coaxing the rest of it out from inside with a wet slurp. The limp length twisted to the side, hanging down nearly to his knees, the wormlike tip leaking a constant stream of syrupy yellow slime, piling up on the carpet. He pumped his sheath, that alone bigger than his — either of his — entire cock had been before, milking out fat dollops of opaque off-white ooze, each one clinging to his cockhead until it grew too heavy and broke. The smell of each one hit Tanner like a wave, animal musk growing stronger and stronger with each pulse, wild and almost offensively rank, sharp and acrid in his nose.

His cock stiffened, twitching and dribbling slime, slowly unbending as it fattened until it was jabbing straight up from his bloated sheath, so thick around it took both of his immense hands to wrap around it, so long the tip nearly pressed against the underside of his skull.

"You like it?" Mike/Cose said, and when Tanner just kept staring he worried his lip, bigger canines digging into his lower lip. His posture shifted, unsure.

Tanner blinked, taking in the whole package: the gigantic demon-looking satyr in Mike's dorm, the room reeking with rank come, fresh ooze piling up across his hooves, limp cock flopping like an oversized worm. It was — what he'd expected from Cose, or from Mike, was absolutely nothing like this. "Gimmie a minute," he said, still just staring. This entire thing could still be a hallucination, honestly.

"I, uh." Mike/Cose was blushing, taking a step forward only for his cock to swing out, slapping with a wet _crack_ across Tanner's side, and then he flinched and jerked back, a flush across his cheeks. "Didn't really think if you'd freak."

It wasn't that he was freaking, exactly — but that was when Tanner realized he should probably be saying that out loud. "I'm not freaking, I just really, really wasn't expecting that." He was so hard in his pants he thought he might just die, and while that was more to do with the two of them moaning and groaning and coming all over him while writhing and naked than the part where he was turning into a nightmare satyr thing, well, he could take that. He swallowed, heavily, and as if in answer Mike/Cose's cock jerked, the twitch exaggerated on his oversized cock into a heavy lurch that sent it slapping up against one heavy pec and back down again, slinging slimy pre in a wiggling arc, splattering across the carpet and up the couch, one end of the gummy tendril instantly hot where it hit Tanner's pant leg, soaking into his jeans.

"So, Mike...?" he said, staring at the utterly transformed body.

The saytr laughed. "Man, I think you got the wrong idea about what's going on here. It's not just like, one or the other switching off." He flexed again, cupping his swollen pecs, thumb rubbing back and forth over a fat, broad nipple. "Both of us all the time, since, well..." he grinned down, teeth sharp and bright under the brim of his skull. "Fuck, we both really wanted this. We think alike, that's what I meant when I said 'compatable'. And otherwise... I mean, who doesn't disagree with themselves in their own head sometimes?

"But if you're looking for something to call me, _Seleukos_ works." Tanner's brow furrowed, and he continued. "I mean, I wasn't that attached to 'Mike' anyway. Or 'Cose'. C'mon Tangerine, I figure you get it."

"Oh my god, never call me that," Tanner said, but by rote; his voice was hazy, reedy. He couldn't rip his eyes from Seleukos' abs, thick and heavy and moving every time Seleukos shifted his weight. Shaggy hair ran down his stomach, fanning out into fur above his sheath, and his cock hung nearly straight down from there, its drooling, meaty heft pulling it straight down. It was getting hard, muscles across his stomach and thighs spasming, and each one sent it lurching to the side, wiggling, ticking upward in uneven lurches, its squiggling purple veins throbbing with each heartbeat. Yeah, he could do this.

Seleukos took a step forward, standing right in front of Tanner, his cock not even a foot away, aimed level at his face like a cannon. Tanner's knees hit the carpet with a thump before he was even aware he was moving, kneeling in front of Seleukos. His pre was spicy and rank, a dizzying rush singing through his body with each breath. His hands caught a flabby string of pre, a cloudy yellow-white, and stretched it between thumb and forefinger: it stretched, drooping slowly, minute tremors as the gummy cords making it up snapped and stitched back together. Seleukos groaned, cock spraying a messy blurt of pre all across his side, most of it missing him entirely and hosing the bed down.

"Yeah, I always wanted to suck off a... weird goat dick?" He caught another fat pearl of ooze, rubbing it between his fingers: almost pulpy, thick gummy chunks bursting between his fingertips.

Seleukos whined — bleated, more like it. " _Please_ ," he said, cock jerking up to full erection, pre gushing down in stringy lines, like hard rain.

Tanner figured he should stop giving him a hard time. His hands wrapped around the satyr's stout feet, shaggy fetlocks envelloping his fingers. The gargantuan goat dick bobbed and twitched in front of him, head level with the sheath; the tip high above him, drizzling pre in thick, slimy droplets, showering down across his head like rain.

"I— can I?" Tanner said, arms taut like he was pushing against the cock's magnetic field, exerting all his strength to keep from getting pulled flush against it.

"You're kidding, right?" Seluekos whined again, a warbling noise that peaked when Tanner's hands slid up his hairy calves. "You're like, most of the reason I'm here." He pumped his cock, shaft distending around his tight grip, flaring fatter. Thick blobs of slime spattered Tanner's head and shoulders with sharp _cracks_. "Do whatever you want."

Tanner's clotted moan drowned out half of what Seleukos was saying; sinking against his cock while he was still talking, lips spread around the fat base. The heated, spicy taste burst into his mouth, potent and heady, and he found himself lapping up and down the heavy flesh, lips spread around its curve, smearing his gummy pre all across his lips and chin as he tried vainly to catch all the mess drooling down his shaft. It was spongy, dimpling under the pressure of his lips. Veins rose to the surface in sudden flares, internal tremors sending blood pumping up and down the throbbing length. Seleukos wrapped one hand around it, much higher up, crackling wetly as he worked his brutish fingers around his fat shaft; the other touched Tanner's face, palm resting on the arch of his brow, his fingers stroking down his cheek, completely covering one eye. Hot ropes of slime slapped across his face, jiggling from the tremors running through Seleukos' body; so thick they bounced off his skin once, twice, before finally sticking, drooling over his closed eyes; squelching between him and Seleukos' palm. Seleukos groaned, kneading his cocktip with his free hand, gushing goopy ropes of pre, smearing across his hairy fingers in a thick mess.

Tanner suckled on the base, spit drooling over his lips. Seleukos' balls pressed against his chest, filling the space under his chin; two huge lopsided orbs that churned and rolled, jerking up in sudden contractions to slam against the underside of his jaw. Tanner's hands were clenching his hairy flanks, thighs clenching as he slurped up and down the base of that massive cock, mouth wide open, tongue pressed flat against the bulging, veined flesh, thick cords of pre piling up in his mouth and flooding down his face even as his throat jogged in gulping swallows, throat clogged by the thick ooze.

Seleukos petted Tanner's head, letting his cock slump forward; its full weight hit Tanner's face, not with a smack but simply with a wet _slop_ , the underside of his shaft distending against the side of his nose; the crest of his brow. He smeared his fingers through Tanner's hair, sticking it together in wet clumps.

His hips hunched, barely shifting but enough to send his cock swinging, the bloated swell of his cock rubbing over Tanner's bruised lips. He dragged his fingers back over Tanner's head, pushing his fat shaft across the side of his face, and in a series of fractional motions Tanner lapped further and further up the bent shaft, lips fastening around his bloated veins, mouthing across thick rubbery flanges, back and back as Seleukos angled his cock forward, until with a shock they fell apart; Seleukos' hand pulling from Tanner's head with a _slurp_ , Tanner falling back on his ass, hands leaving Seleukos' haunches to reflexively catch himself. He lett out a shocked grunt when his ass hit the carpet, blinking open his scum-coated eyes just in time to catch a spurt of satyr pre right across the face, fresh from Seleukos' cock: both hands now angling his cock straight forward, its weight pulling it down in an uneven arch, aiming it so the fist-sized head was bobbing right in front of him, his flushed and swollen lips nearly brushing the lashing tip.

Tanner parted his lips, catching the squirming tip, cheeks puffing from the abrupt burst of pre, for the first time all of it flooding directly into his mouth. He choked, coughing slime back across Seleukos' shaft.

Seleukos groaned, the noise sharp and abrupt ripped up from his chest. He stroked his cock with both hands, moaning again when he pelted Tanner right in the face with another gush of pre, completely drenching him in a goopy layer of yellowish slime, filmy planes of ooze tangled between them, frothy bubbles spitting from Tanner's nose and mouth as he gasped for breath. "Please," he said, cupping Tanner's face in his hand, swiping through the mess and smearing it in globs from chin to hairline.

Tanner gulped, wrapping both hands just under Seleukos' flared cockhead, lips pursing over the distended tube of his cockslit. He opened wide, mouth open wide, lips pulled away from his teeth, and gulped, the rank heat of Seleukos' cock suddenly the only thing in his universe, pulsing and spitting, already overflowing his mouth. His cheeks bulged, squirting high-pressure bursts of pre around the sloppy seal of his cockhead, more sluggish lines oozing from his nose as he choked and gagged on the flood. Head tipped up, eyes shut against the mess coating his face, Tanner slowly sunk down on Seleukos' cock, bruised lips spreading and spreading until his whole face was distorted, straining to cram the entire meaty swell of that satyr cock into his mouth. His throat gurgled, tongue jammed against the floor of his mouth.

Seleukos was dazed, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, mouth open, grunting and huffing as Tanner took in his cock. Drool spilled past his lips, foaming at the corners of his mouth, just more wet slime pattering down across Tanner's soaked form. Tanner gulped non-stop, throat working as he took Seleukos' cock in deeper, the tip knocking against the back of his throat. His cock was still spongy, flexible, and it was almost shockingly easy to swallow again, throat bulging as Seleukos' cock bent down, plunging deep inside him. The flare of his cockhead lurched, like a fist driven straight down his throat. His throatspasmed, straining and distended, outlining every flare and vein of Seleukos' cock, and the answering groan from Seleukos rumbled through him, a bass roar vibrating through the meat of his cock as much as through the air around them.

The need for air grew more and more pressing, Seleukos' cock working as a plug, completely stopping his breath. He could just pull off, but... Tanner gurgled and snorted, throat muscles clenching down harder still, Seleukos' cock distending; squeezed thinner down his throat and bulging out fatter, rubbery piles of meat folding over itself into his mouth as he finally sucked in a strangled, watery breath through his nose. He snorted and spat, blowing out gummy lines of pre all the way through his flooded sinuses — not even trying to suck Seleukos' cock, just get his breathing under control with a foot of cock lodged in his throat, red-faced and wheezing, but the feral grunts and bleats coming from above; Seleukos' hands cupping his face; the unabated flood of gummy pre shooting straight down into his stomach, all told him he was still suceeding. He ached, throat bruised and aching, sloppy-sticky with the unending flood of pre. It was like he'd just eaten a big meal, stomach full and now sloshing, gurgling with every new gush of ooze.

He smeared his hands across his face, scraping flabby tendrils of slime off his chin, and squinted up at Seleukos through bleary eyes. The satyr's burning eyes met him, and his cock lurched in Tanner's throat, a messy bubble of slime bursting past his lips as he dragged in a liquid breath.

"Oh, fuck, Tanner," Seleukos groaned, head lolling back. Tanner sunk forward, Seleukos' hands scraping through his matted hair, easing him down as he fed more and more of his grotesquely huge cock straight down his throat, spongy head under his collarbone and still sinking. The head sunk past the sharp, clenching bands of muscle in his throat, down until it was just smooth muscle wrapped like rubber around his length, down and down. There was a hollow _pop_ deep in his chest when the cockhead speared all the way into his stomach, the continual river of pre flooding directly into his gurgling, sloshing belly. Each breath was a procession: throat clamping down, diaphragm thumping hard inside him as he sucked in a breath, throat more and more bruised each time.

Selekus' sheath kissed his face, silver-brown fur matted in dripping clumps, grinding coarse across Tanner's face as Seleukos eased the absolute root of his cock into Tanner's mouth, sheath peeling back and bunching over itself in greasy folds, pressing against Tanner's bruised lips with a squelch, the entire titanic length of Seleukos' cock sunk inside him, root to tip. When Seleukos groaned, the vibration carried through his cock, his teeth resonating.

Seleukos' huge hands came down, palms covering Tanner's bleary eyes, thick fingers carding through his soaked hair. He eased forward, back, not even thrusting: hips angling differently, Tanner's head buried between his flanks, shifting his weight to one side and then the other, pratically stirring his cock around, Tanner's throat a straining sheath, gurgling and drooling what little pre made its way all the way back up his convulsing throat, spilling down his jaw and smearing over Seluekos' nuts, supple animal-hide straining all down his neck and chest, balls churning and rolling.

Tanner slobbered all over Seleukos' cock, jaw split wide and tongue flattened, lips working over the grimy base of his cock, throat squeezing. His stomach churned, bloated with pre, a sloshing ocean rolling inside him, currents billowing up as Seleukos kept pissing out pre in a steady flow. He couldn't tell how long they were like this, Seleukos gently mating his face, body straining more and more to contain the sheer volume of his issue, but eventually his warning was Seleukos bleating again, slurring an "oh, fuck, _Tanner_ ," as his cock pulsed again — shaft flaring, every vein feeling chiseled from rock as it swelled out in all directions. Even his ragged breaths were cut off, Seleukos' cock conforming exactly to his throat.

His balls kicked up, slamming into his jaw like getting hit by bowling balls wrapped in pillows, and the swell of his load bursting down his shaft felt cartoonish, like a huge wave sliding down his shaft — jaw, throat, chest, until the first pulse kicked straight into his overfilled stomach, the pressure kicking higher. He was so full he could feel the currents: thicker, heavier slime settling down like sediment, a tarry layer of come painting his bloated stomach, Seleukos' cock kicking again and again. Pre erupted up, flooding the minute space between his throat and Seleukos' cock after each pulse, overwhelming his much-abused muscles and then gurgling up the back of his throat, a grimy mess of thinned bile and gallons of pre, fountaining from his slack lips and flooding from his nose, squirting in high-pressure lines against Seleukos' churning balls, coating their bodies in slimy layers of yelloish come, forming immense, slow-flowing rivers down to soak into the ruined carpet, again and again after each pulse until it simply drooled constantly up Tanner's wrecked throat, the flood surging after each pulse down into his stomach.

He was dimly aware of his center of gravity changing, Seleukos' cock dragging up his throat, each blast of tarry come higher and high, spraying with more and more force from his mouth, until his cockhead popped from the back of his throat in a gush, with a hollow _glug_ like a soda bottle being poured. Tanner gagged, reflexive gasp ending with him catching the next blast right to the face, choking and gagging as he coughed up huge, slobbery globs of come, one arm loosely wrapped around Seleukos' hips, still-kicking cock slapping down his back, rippling and shuddering with the force of each shot as Tanner just puked out the entire mess of come, practically undiluted, just adding to the frothy, bubbling mess already coating Seleukos from mid-haunch down.

Sound came back with a lurch, the throb of his heart diminishing to a background throb, the coarse grind of their bodies moving against each other suddenly shockingly loud. Seluekos dropped to his knees, still-spurting cock fountaining between them, splashing up across Tanner's chest.

"Woah, fuck, dude, you okay?" Seleukos held him by the shoulders, arm barced against his chest carrying all his weight, and Tanner turned to the side and heaved again, a thick mass of come working its way up his ravanged throat in pulses, erupting from his mouth in a slobbering gush, drooling onto the carpet as he vomiting again, each heave bringing up what had to be pints of thick, stringy slime. "I think I kinda overdid it," Seleukos said, a little bashfully, slapping Tanner on the back as he spat up an endless amount of grimy satyr seed. He might have taken that a little better if Seleukos wasn't _still coming_ , cock lurching between them, voice hitching with each pulse, splashing sizzlingly hot cords across his sides.

"You think?" Tanner managed between gasps, mouth open and drooling, hands braced on the floor and completely submerged in yellowish spunk, the cords that splattered down slowly losing form and smearing together in a single smooth pile, throat burning, mouth spicy with the rank taste.

Seleukos pulled him closer, his mammoth dick pinned right between them, Tanner spitting come all over his shoulder, lips worrying the lobe of his ear, fingers slipping down his soaked skin, peeling down his sodden jeans — Tanner was flushed, body burning hot and not just from the sheer heat of the mass of come still gurgling inside him. Seleukos tipped his head to the side, angling to keep the spur of his skull out of the way, kissing him wet and open-mouthed, and then swallowed, drinking down the frothy mess of his own load when Tanner gagged and spat up into his mouth, bleating out a moan as he drank straight from Tanner's mouth.

Seleukos slid a hand into his boxers, peeling the soaked fabric back from around his achingly-hard cock, and just about the second his fingers wrapped around his shaft Tanner was coming: the sloppy friction, the pressure ringing his cockhead, enough to have him crying into Seleukos' mouth, entire body jerking forward in dazed, aborted thrusts, heat gathering in his cock and spilling out in slow waves. He coughed out the last of Seleukos' load — or at least the last before he stopped heaving — down his chest, the mess gurgling down and matching the rest of the ooze painted down his chest perfectly and slumped to the side, just focusing on breathing through his ravaged throat.

"Sorry, I— got a little carried away," Seleukos said, arms wrapping around his chest. "M'not really used to this body." He continued, more brightly: "But I'm pretty sure it's literally impossible for me to kill you with sex! I mean, that was a thing, back in the day." His cock, never quite soft and still leaking, twitched against Tanner's side, writhing like a snake. "It's kind of a thing. Because, y'know, satyrs."

Tanner let Seleukos stroke him off, toying with his softening cock, fingers squelching through the mess — they were both completely soaked with his load, hair and fur plastered to their skin, Tanner's jeans saturated, the wet spot basically a few feet in radius, splatters and tendrils all across the room.

"I'm still not sure I didn't just hallucinate all of this," he said. His throat rasped, rough and achingly deep. "You're only getting a pass because—" and he had to stop to have a coughing fit; Seleukos scrambled to his feet — well, hooves — and handed him his water bottle before settling back around them; Tanner took a swig. "Because I never hallucinated anything even _close_ to this shit before."

"Well, in the morning, when I'm still here, that be good enough?"

"I mean, I once had snakes on the ceiling for a full week, but yeah, I guess," he said, and then, more pressingly as it occurred to him: "Wait, in the morning, still like —" he knocked against Seleukos' skull, a hollow _tok_ , fingers sliding over the rim in a caress.

"Well, yeah, I mean this is me now, that's kind of what the whole new body thing was for."

"So..." Tanner said slowly. "Classes?"

Seleukos went rigid, arms suddenly locked around Tanner's sides. "Oh fuck!"

"Seriously? ...Seriously?"

"I didn't think that far ahead!"

"How far did you think ahead, exactly?"

Seleukos leered at him, cock dribbling a fresh squirt of pre down Tanner's back. "Mostly just the sex part."

Tanner rolled his eyes, a faint smirk playing over his lips. "So, I'm guessing you don't have some magic to clean up the mess either." Like on cue, a string of come hanging from the ceiling finally snapped, hitting the floor with a crack. Seleukos flinched.

If ever a seven-foot-tall, skull-headed demon satyr monster could look alarmed, Seleukos did. "Oh, _fuck_!"


	2. (coda)

"I'm honestly kinda impressed," Tanner said, sprawled back on the least-soaked part of Mike's bed. He was gingerly trying to wipe the mess of satyr come off. Mostly it smeared it around; it worked into a lather.

"Ohhhhh, this is bad." Seleukos was pacing, hooves alternately squelching and stomping as he moved through the more or less soaked patches of carpet. "Classes start tomorrow! Morning!"

Tanner laid back, still hazy in the afterglow but grimacing as the motion smeared clammy come across his skin. "Okay, plan: first, I'm gonna take a shower, and you're gonna try to... scoop up the worst of the mess, and we'll go from there."

"Hey — H-hey!" Seleukos reached for Tanner as he grabbed Mike's bathrobe and flipflops from his closet, heading for the door.

"It'll be fine, dude," he said, before firmly shutting it in Seleukos' face.

It was a good thing it was like four in the morning; the walk down to the showers felt like a thousand opportunities for someone to pop out of a room and come face-to-face with him, shirtless and shiny, reeking satyr spunk soaking into his jeans. At last he wasn't leaving much of a trail.

His jeans hit the floor with a _splat_ , and the rest of the shower went much the same way; his hair was nearly glued together from the mess. After a while — he didn't want to leave Seleukos stewing _too_ long — he just gave up and called it good enough, even though his hair still felt coarse and he probably still stunk.

Seleukos jolted when he opened the door, dropping behind his closet door like that would hide how he was still a gigantic demon-looking satyr monster. Hopefully no one was watching the dorm windows at four in the morning.

Tanner blinked. "You know, I'm going to freak out so hard about this once I get more than five hours sleep. You're the one who dropped _satyrs exist_ on me with basically no warning."

The room was... still a mess, but honestly there wasn't that much Seleukos could do. The blobs he'd shot up the wall, onto the ceiling, were just discolored splotches, and the windows were streaky and crusted but no longer completely coated with translucent ooze. He'd opened one of them and set up a fan exhausting. His sheets were in a pile on the floor, thick come slowly wicking through at the bottom.

"Man, that's such a mess."

"I never had to worry about that back in the day," Seleukos said, shoving a literal handful of come into a trash bag after scraping it off the carpet. "I mean, either way. No one cares if you come gallons if you're living it up in the forest. And like... man, I came a lot before, but it was always enough for like, tissues." He scraped the carpet again, punching the handful of slime into the bag.

"Well, at least I'm pretty sure this is nowhere near anything my brain could cook up." Tanner shrugged off Mike's bathrobe, chucking his jeans onto the pile of sheets. Seleukos looked up, lips pulling back in a grin at Tanner just standing there naked. His cock lurched, slapping against his thigh, a thick cord of pre drooling onto the carpet. "Seriously?"

"Dude, it's _literally_ what satyrs are known for." Seleukos kept looking, cock slowly stiffening. "Not like we could make it worse at this point." He prowled closer, on his hands and knees, cock swinging back and forth, a zigzag of pre slashing across the carpet, and, well, Tanner let him, leaning back against the wall, legs spread. "And can you blame me?" he asked, on his knees, tongue practically unfurling from his mouth, long and purple-tinged as he lapped up Tanner's thigh. "You're hot."

"Fuck, dude," Tanner said, watching Seleukos inch closer, his own cock slowly flushing, heavier as Seleukos nuzzed his balls, skull digging divots up his stomach. "I just got out of the shower, at least don't come all over me again."

"Got it," Seleukos said, or at least a vague groan that sounded a little like that. He opened wide, lapping up to the junction of Tanner's thigh, lips pressing against the side of his cock. He jerked his cock to the side, both hands squeezing like it was fighting against him, just in time for the next squirt of pre to splatter across the wall instead of right across him.

Tanner cupped the muzzle of Seleukos' skull, tipping it back; Seleukos pulled back, lips dragging up the length of his cock until they came to rest right at the crown of his cockhead, dimpling as they parted. The inside of his mouth was slick and hot, pursing tight around his cockhead.

* * *

Anyway, they fucked. It was hot. Tanner narrowly avoided taking another cumshot to the face, and Seleukos sprayed another huge flood of jizz up the wall. Then he started freaking out again.

"I feel like we're stuck in a loop here," Tanner said, this time avoiding the bed, wrapped up in Mike's spare sheet. He was wearing it like a toga, because he had a sense of humor about the whole ancient Greek satyr thing. He was going to freak out about this _so hard_ once he had time to process it, but now everything was just a hazy blur of euphoric tiredness.

"I think I have an idea," Seleukos said, stopping his pacing. The carpet was kind of frothing where he'd been pacing, hooves crusted over with jizz. "There's like, uh. Kind of a secret sign? And I didn't notice it — I mean, uh, Mike didn't notice it, right, but in retrospect... anyway, there's a place in Lowertown that might have something useful."

"Something useful for not being a huge demon satyr?"

"Like, a glamour, maybe? Honestly I don't really know much about magic." Seleukos met Tanner's disbelieving gaze. "What? Seriously, I just hung out in forests and seduced whoever came through, that's not magic."

"So what's the place?"

"Uh, Alchemist Books, like, that magic shop? It's—"

"Acolyte. I'm familiar." A pause. "Seriously? There's nothing in there but candles and incense. And self-help books."

"Well I hope they have _something_ or else I'm fucked."

Tanner shrugged. "There's online classes I guess. On the internet no one knows you're a satyr."

"I guess." He sounded pained. "But seriously, please go see if they have... anything useful."

It was a few hours before anything would be open. They fucked again, Tanner mewling while Seleukos rimmed him, thick purple-warted tongue squirming inside him like a tentacle, claws spreading his cheeks, skull lines and ridges of pressure up his back, Seleukos' cock fountaining slime until it formed a messy river of froth pouring down his cock, coating his balls and haunches, spraying up across Tanner's legs.

Tanner kind of gave up on keeping clean, just wiping himself down afterward, trying to sniff-test himself for caked-on satyr come. The room reeked enough it was impossible to tell.

It was light outside, and it felt like he'd been awake so long that time had stopped having any meaning. Like all the illusions about the world had fallen apart. His internal monologue had flat-out stopped a few hours back.

Ideally that would've stopped the hallucinations too, but that was just the way the world was going on this impossible morning. There were black-rot humanoid figures smearing through each other in the flowerbed of the magic shop, one standing uncomfortably close to the railing of the stairs up.

The magic shop was called "Acolyte Books & Herbs" actually, and he could definitely smell the herbs when he stepped inside. There was a peppy-looking grandmother type just setting up the till, and it felt like in some cosmic sense she was his exact opposite. The type to be peppy and upbeat about bullshit, where he was getting increasingly frustrated with real magic. Maybe that was an unfair conclusion to draw; this whole situation had him dimly annoyed.

"Oh, hello! Good morning! Do you need help looking for anything?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for—" Probably Seleukos could've been more specific about what exactly he wanted. Illusion spells? "—a spellbook? I guess?"

"We have some books for beginning practitioners!" She pointed to the bookshelves in the corner. One of the big front-facing books had a cover of a white woman sitting in a lotus position, blobs that were probably supposed to be her chakras ablaze with light. Title: _The Young Witch's Guide To The Soul_.

Tanner smeared a hand across his face. Greasy. Maybe just caked-on satyr come he hadn't cleaned up. "No, I don't want new age bullshit." The old woman arched her brows. "I mean, so, my friend turned himself into a satyr. Like for real."

Like, what, probably what Mike and Cose did was technically necromancy. Autonecromancy. Maybe that was a thing the hippy wiccan kind of witches frowned on, so he should assume he should avoid mentioning that part. Maybe the hippy wiccan part was all a front, which was awfully funny because you'd think they would've told _the other fucking hippy wiccans_ that.

Honestly this whole day being a complete psychological break brought on by midterm stress was looking more and more likely than fucking _magic_. Less epistemologically stressful too.

Tanner just kept talking. "And like he said something about a secret sign? Didn't actually tell me what it was. Hopefully they let all the employees in on the secret or else I'm going to look totally crazy. Anyway so like, a way so people don't notice he's a satyr is kind of what we're after here. ...Is any of this getting through, seriously."

"I think we might have something, actually." The woman said.

"Holy shit, really?!"

"Yes. Follow me." And she turned back into the _employees only_ section, which was just a side room, a cramped little lounge area with most of the chairs covered in cardboard boxes of books yet to be fully unpacked. But there was a side room, and _that_ was where things got weird: tiny and cramped and musty-smelling, shelves on all the walls and a bare table in the center, hardly a few inches between the two. "Don't touch anything," she said, and Tanner dropped his hands from where he'd been about to grab a gigantic amulet that basically screamed "cliched cursed magical artifact".

"So this is the real shit, huh?" he said. The old woman ignored him. "So why isn't this out front anyway?"

"It could be dangerous. What I'm going to give you, if it falls into the wrong hands—" she shook her head. "The results could be catastrophic."

"You've known me for a minute! How do you know _I'm_ not the wrong hands?"

"Do you plan on telling anyone?"

"Uh, honestly, yes, probably." He looked at a jar full of preserved something-or-other. "This is like a fucking drug lab meets chemical weapon dump, how is this safer than having a fucking like, magical certification agency."

She snorted, and finally pulled a book from the shelf, laying it on the table. "Here."

"You've got to be kidding me." The book was... handbound in leather, yellowed and musty like someone'd let it sit out in a garage for a few years. He flipped it open: handwritten in jagged cursive, additions made in the margins and between lines until the thing was nearly illegible.

"Seriously? This is like some valuable relic here, I guess? And no one made _copies_? The printing press was invented hundreds of years ago and you're telling me not a single witch decided to jump on that bandwagon? There's a reason why there aren't any medieval calligraphy printings of _50 Shades Of Grey_."

"If you don't _want_ it—" she started, but Tanner clutched the musty old thing to his chest:

"No way you gave it to me, no backsies." Then: " _Did_ you give it to me? No payment or anything. That's bad salesmanship."

"It sounds like you're in quite the straits, young man. You couldn't buy this book for money, anyway, and you don't have any other currency worth trading for. Maybe one day you'll have means to repay the favor."

"Oh, awesome, in debt to the mysterious magic shop. Great. So like what, there's a magical barter economy? No magic gold coins?"

"Well," she said, circling the point. "Some rituals call for certain components to imbue their powers on the witch casting, and if you do have a satyr friend... it would be his issue that would be most sought after."

Tanner blinked, once, slowly. "You're saying you want satyr jizz. Is what you're telling me. Christ, I'm sure you could fucking scrape some off me at this point—" and at her shocked look: "You're the one who brought it up!"

It was such a good thing there was no one else in the store.

"Sure, whatever, it's not like he's got it in short supply, I'm sure he'd be happy to."

Back in the main room, the old woman looked at him and said: "You should be a little more open-minded. Accept that the world contains many things you can't see."

Tanner cast a glance out the window, where the oozing tar things were still ruining the flowerbed. "Yeah, it's more that my world contains a bunch of bullshit that no one else can see."

The old grandma looked at him, and with a creeping kind of dread he knew exactly what she was gonna say before she said it. "If you have the Sight then you should—"

"Oh fuck off!" Tanner cut her off, voice growing to a shout. "Maybe I'd believe that if your new-age seeing-spirits bullshit books sounded like a schizophrenia diagnostic. 'Spirits unknown to mortal eyes' or whatever you get off on thinking about is just a bullshit non-answer to a question you don't actually want to think about." He shook his head. "Anyway, whatever. Thanks for the book. Later."

Back at the dorms:

Tanner shouldered Mike's door open so hard it crashed against the wall. "I've solved all your fucking problems. Again! And they're all such fucking bullshit."

Seleukos was jerking off. Of course. Sprawled across his bed, hooves spilling off the end, back arched to his the only part of his body that was actually touching were his shoulders and ankles. One hand pumping his cock, the other twisted behind him, fingers jammed up his ass. His chest was a solid glaze of pre, coating his skull and drooling from his upper jaw in long tassels, spilling across his stubbled face. Tanner was starting to get a sense of just what satyr sex drives were like. It was hot but honestly now was not the time.

"Bullshit?" Seleukos' voice rasped a little, rough, and tipped his head, a new line of pre oozing from the eye sockets of his skull, and okay yeah it was _really_ hot.

"The granny there did the whole, maybe you're seeing spirits thing. I fucking hate the maybe you're seeing spirits thing."

"Was it really that bad?" Seleukos at least had the grace to let go of his cock; it hit his skin with a wet splash.

"Literally everyone I told about it except you said I was 'seeing spirits'; it's _kind of a sore spot_. You are literally one of my hallucinations. Well, 'hallucinations', you know. This is a big deal for me."

"You know, there's like... medication for that."

Tanner slammed the book down on the table, a sharp _bang_. "Yeah, because I'm super enthused to go up to a doctor all 'so I'm the bad kind of crazy who sees shit and hears voices and can't tell fantasy from reality.'" He mimed talking with his hands, big cartoony sockpuppet motions _sans_ sockpuppet.

"'And this is newly important because now I have a _magical saytr boyfriend_!'" He dropped his hands. "It would not go well."

"Oh. Um." Seleukos scratched the back of his head, where his hair was tufting out from under his skull. "...boyfriend?"

Tanner blew out a breath, lips tugging up despite himself. "Man, if you did all that just to get laid, I am kicking you the fuck out."

"No, it's cool — I mean, yeah. Boyfriend." A pause while they just grinned at each other. "So, uh, the book...?"

"Oh, I have no clue, the old grandma there just gave it to me and said it'd help. Honestly for all I know it could be total bullshit."

"She just gave it to you?"

"Well, she wanted some of your jizz. I guess you could take a big trashbag down but honestly we could just stiff her, I don't really care. I kind of yelled at her anyway, probably she doesn't have high hopes on getting her ancient relic back."

"You didn't really."

"If a kindly old grandma is gonna keep the secrets of the universe from all of human society for kicks, than a kindly old grandma is gonna just have to deal with me yelling sometimes, is what I think. Got another question?"

"Uh, you gonna go to class? I've got class in—" Seleukos looked at the clock. "Thirty minutes." He looked down. "Which I'm not gonna get to, fuck, this book better have something in it."

"Honestly at this point I don't care." Tanner was so tired everything was pulsing at the edges, in time with his heartbeat. "I'm going to sleep for like a day and when I wake up I'm honestly kind of hoping this has all been a psychotic break." At Seleukos' affronted look: "I mean, not that you're not hot, but it's kind of... you know."

"Not really."

"Anyway, later."

He ran into Greg on his way into his room, leaving on his way to class, which meant that his class started in — fifteen minutes ago. "Oh right," he said. "You exist."

Greg looked at him. "Are you high?"

"God, I hope." Tanner pushed past him and into the room, shutting it in Greg's face. Probably he wasn't winning any good roommate awards, but he profoundly didn't care.

Then he passed out for a lot of hours.

When he woke up it was dark, sky black in the window, streetlights painting lopsided shapes over the walls and ceiling. He blinked a few times, reveling in being almost-asleep, carefree, because there was something really stressful that he was avoiding — except then someone knocked on the door again, and, right, that was what woke him up.

Tanner shambled over to the door, rubbing his eyes, squinting at the hallway light: Mike. His mind turned over like an engine trying to start. "Wait," he said. "Last night—"

"All that happened." Mike said quickly, and then leered at him: oh right, he was only in his underwear, boxers that were more than a little stained with satyr come. Mike stepped forward, and Tanner fell back to let him inside — and as he walked forward he just kind of shed his body, like he was shrugging out of a backpack, and so by the time Tanner had the door closed it was Seleukos who was standing there, buck naked, Mike's clothes cast off onto the ground. He sat on Tanner's bed, dwarfing its frame. "So guess who figured out a glamour spell!"

"Okay, you are absolutely gonna spill everything you know about your bullshit magic to me."

"I mean... I don't know how well that would work, like, trying to figure it all out. It's like, magic and shit."

"Are you fucking joking? Yeah, there are no reasonable explanations and then I have conclusive and extremely visible evidence that _magic exists_." Tanner thought for a second, mind kicking over and actually spinning to life this time. "Plus like: You (meaning Cose) couldn't possess yourself (meaning Mike) until you had your skull, so there's a physical component here? You absolutely already told me you were bound to your skull, in some abstract and extremely nebulous way. You're already following more rules than just 'make shit up'; 'science' is just figuring out what those rules are." He narrowed his eyes. "Even if you're not telling me."

Seleukos grabbed his arm where he'd been waving it around, calmly but implacably pulling Tanner into a full-body hug. Tanner accepted it for a few seconds and started squirming. "You're kind of freaking out about this," he said, voice low in Tanner's ear.

"Uh, yes, I think of all the things in the world worth freaking out about, this is worth it. I think finding out literally everything you know about the way the world works is wrong is pretty deserving of a freakout."

"I'm just saying, I don't really want to get turned into a guinea pig, y'know?"

Tanner stilled. "Okay, sure. Reasonable. Granted. But come the fuck on. I am absolutely going to grill you about this and you are going to grin and bear it. Tigers and manticores were both mythological creatures until people realized tigers _exist_ , and I am going to add satyrs — and maybe a lot of other shit! — to that list. The list of formerly-mythical creatures. Do manticores exist? This is important."

"I've never met one."

"Ha ha." Tanner punched Seleukos on the arm. "I guess revolutionizing the world can wait until _after_ I graduate. Or flunk out, whichever." He lolled back, sprawling over Seleukos with his limbs spread. "Probably I should see how I did on the midterm."

"Probably. I think I have like a C so far; it's so bad."

"Did you go to class? Was there a magic spell for getting a full night's sleep in like five minutes?"

"Nah." Seleukos grinned, tipping his head to the side, skull shifting minutely. "Boundless satyr energy is good for more than just fucking, I guess." He shifted closer. "And, speaking of—" His sheath pressed against Tanner's stomach, nub of his cockhead already oozing pre.

Tanner just reached over and pinched his sheath over his cock, the next squirt lancing up across his wrist in a thick yellow-clear glob, splattering over Seleukos' stomach. "We're not fucking _here_ , holy shit, you saw the mess."

Seleukos whined, rutting against his hand — and yeah, his cock steaming hot, solidly hard under the sloppy padding of his sheath... it was hot. But the _mess_.

"How about we _go back to your room_ , and then—" Tanner looked at Seleukos' packed sheath, swell of his hardening-but-trapped making a fat bulge under his sheath, shifting and swelling as he got harder. "You think satyr magic would let you fuck me with that thing without killing me?"

"Man, _this_ I do know:" Seleukos said, lips dragging over Tanner's jaw. "Saytrs can do basically anything they want with their dick. Before this happened I jerked off so much thinking of fucking you. Both of me."

Tanner whined, squirming — just smearing himself in more rank pre, shining across his skin, his own cock skewing up against his crusted boxers. "Okay, plan: get back to your dorm, _then_ you can do whatever you want, unless you found a fucking magical satyr-jizz cleanup spell."

"Actually—" Seleukos started, and Tanner whacked him with a pillow. "Oh, fuck off!"

Well, Tanner thought, wrestling as Seleukos just bodily flipped him over, at least he'd have some time to work out the whole magic thing. And he had a boyfriend to do it with. One-and-a-half boyfriends, really. All-in-all, generally an improvement.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't really tag it such b/c "{foo} character" tags get long and elaborate fast but yeah tanner's lowkey schizophrenic; it is not all just magical bullshit.


End file.
